Dragonlord
by Anidori-Kiladra
Summary: The last thing he remembered was Merlin's face swimming above him as he closed his hand over his son's. He didn't know that he'd be returned to earth as a twenty-five-year-old knight, then. In which Gwaine is Merlin's father reincarnated.


Dragonlord

A/N: Hey all. I'ma just warn you now: this fic is lazy. It is lazily written, because I haven't watched _Merlin _in months and am too busy/lazy/don't enjoy them enough to go back and watch the episodes. But I wanted to write it because it's been taking up space in my brain where conspiracy theories about Abed from _Community_ being a government plant from the future should go. So…enjoy! But be warned.

The last thing Balinor expected was to end up here.

The last thing he remembered was Merlin. Merlin's face swimming above him as he closed his hand over his son's and whispered, "I've seen enough in you to know that you will make me proud."

He didn't know that he'd be returned to earth as a twenty-five year old knight, then.

A twenty-five year old knight with quite good hair, he had to admit. Balinor was never one for vanity, and he knew that there were probably more important things he should be worried about. But he was beginning to think that perhaps one's personality couldn't help but go through changes when one passed out of an old life and into a new one. Or perhaps he just couldn't help but have a slightly brighter outlook, now that he was young and strong again, and able to have a proper drink in an actual tavern, instead of weak home-brewed ale, hunkered down in a cave alone.

He had found himself, fully formed and fully outfitted in armor, outside the tavern a mere hour ago, with memories and shadows flitting about his head, and the smell of meat pies in his nose almost unbearable.

Luckily, the suit of armor he was wearing happened to include a coin pouch looped around his neck, so that took care of that. And so he was sitting, confused but happy, with a mug in front of him, when he saw his son enter the tavern.

That in itself was enough to make Balinor choke on his mouthful of ale. Worse was the blonde apparition that followed Merlin in; he knew it must be infernal Uther Pendragon's infernal son, and the thought of that was almost enough to keep him from jumping in when the boy started a fight.

But then he considered: it had been years since he'd been in a good tavern brawl, and there was the safety of his son to consider as well. He meant to slip away quietly afterward, especially after realizing what a problem of identity he faced during their introduction, Balinor choking out the first sound that came into his head and being rather surprised that the boys believed it to be an actual name that any sane mother would give her son.

He was not quite sure yet how to broach the prospect of interacting with his son again when his son's only real memory of him was his death. But there was no way to slip away without making even more of a scene and so Balinor followed, uncomfortable and apprehensive, back to Camelot.

Camelot. It was hard to fight the taste of revulsion rising in his mouth as they passed under the gate, crossed the square where Balinor knew many of his brethren had been slain in the old days. But somehow worse was what came later, sitting with Merlin in his room, when Merlin showed him his own dragon, and talked about a father in such loving terms.

Balinor had to swallow and look away, because he knew that he could never tell Merlin the truth. Merlin might not believe him and besides, it would have been complicated enough trying to start a relationship with the boy after fifteen years. It was even more complicated now. He must protect Merlin from the pain of his eventual second loss of a father. Because if there was one thing Balinor knew, it was that he wasn't given this second chance at a life so he could sit around, safe and protected. No, he must be the one protecting.

So he left Merlin and Camelot both, convinced that this was the best way, the only way.

But then he weakened. If he could not stay with his son, he told himself, then surely he could at least catch another glimpse of the only woman he had ever loved.

To Ealdor Balinor went, then, circling around and entering the village from the north, playing the part of the knight errant on his way toward Camelot, questing all the while. They welcomed him, these quiet people, as they had welcomed him sixteen years ago. And Hunith, her smile was just as sweet as it had always been as she offered him stew from her own fire, bid him lie down upon her floor on her best rushes.

Yet she did not know him, and Balinor felt a crashing disappointment. It was not until then, lying on her floor watching the fire burn itself out, that he realized what his own hopes had been: that she would know him anywhere, that her sweet lips would speak his name, her warm eyes see past the face he now wore.

But it was not to be, and the next day Balinor turned north again, leaving the woman he loved, and thinking that he was ever making the same mistake for different reasons. A knight errant in truth now, with no destination and no place to call home, Balinor despaired.

Out of his own body, away from the one person he had ever truly loved. And worse, what he realized on his third day out from Ealdor, when he saw the telltale swoop of wings across the moon, called and called only to be greeted with silence: he was no longer a Dragonlord. Those powers must, of course, have passed to Merlin upon his death. No love, no honor, and now the one thing that had always defined him, gone.

He could hardly be blamed for falling in with some bad folk. Though, ending up a trained monkey fighting for slavers was an outcome he could not have foretold.

But then Merlin and that blasted Arthur showed up, and he couldn't help but be happy to see them. He was so glad to find Merlin again, or rather that Merlin found him. Now he knew that everything happens for a reason. And he knew what that reason was.

Balinor has a new name now. Somewhere along the way, he has become Gwaine. And a new reason for living, one he wouldn't trade for the world. He is Merlin's father, even though Merlin must never know.

Gwaine will always be there to protect his son, even if Merlin never knows it.


End file.
